Contra
by mrcolson
Summary: They share a life together, but the words have never been spoken, and nothing confirmed.


My eyes gravitated towards him. It was something natural. Like when you hear a loud noise, you jump, it's a natural reflex. When I heard that uncontrollable laugh, that deep voice, or those high notes. My eyes would instantly go to him. He had a way of engaging and captivating everyone's attention, without even trying. I was mesmerized, and I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Lou…Lou!"

I quickly snapped back into reality by the sound of Zayn's voice calling my name.

"You missed it! Our team just scored!"

We were at Liam's place. A big enough place to fit us all, but not quite big enough to be comfortable in. It was a cheap apartment. The floorboards creaked, when the neighbor above you went to the bathroom you could hear the toilet flush and the water travel through the pipes, you also had to hit the door two times after you locked it for it to fully lock. All these flaws and imperfections made this place home to us, though.

The guys stared at me. "You seem to be in la-la land today, mate!" Liam said, giving me a firm pat on the back.

I ran one hand through my hair, while the other hand reached for my beer on the coffee table. I leaned back on the plush couch, bringing the cold beer to my lips.

As I brought the beer to my lips, taking a small sip, I look over to Harry who, in a few big gulps, had completely downed his. He was wearing a beanie that pushed back and controlled most of his curls, giving you full access to the sight of his face. The white v-neck he was wearing showcased his collarbones, and clung perfectly to the form of his body. His legs and feet tapped and jittered in the skinny jeans and converse he was wearing. The other guys were riled up and excited over the game on television. While Harry just seemed, kind of, there.

He finished the beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smacking his lips together.

"I guess I'm just a little off today," I said. "Maybe one too many beers."

"A man can never have too many beers! Beer makes the world go 'round!" Niall said much too enthusiastically. He had probably one too many beers himself, as well.

"Niall, you're an Irishman," Liam said with a chuckle. "Beer is probably what runs through your veins instead of blood."

"Damn straight! My personal key to happiness is pints," Niall said raising his beer with a smile, "and lots of them!"

As the game played on and the conversation on how beer is the universal key to happiness continued, I looked past the couch and over at the window on the far left side of Liam's apartment. It was a little after five in the morning and the sun was just starting to rise above the New York City skyline. The sky had the pink/orange/yellow hue that covered the city. No matter what time of day or night it was, there would always be something going on.

The game was coming to a close and we were winning. We scored a final goal and that made the crowd go wild. Niall, Zayn, and Liam were especially excited, and the win left us all in good spirits.

We all left Liam's place to head to our own homes. Harry and I shared an apartment.

We rode the bus all the way home. I stared out the window as street after street flashed by. The streets were starting to crowd as New Yorkers rushed and hurried to their jobs. Many business men and business women dressed in suits and carrying briefcases, talking on the phone and trying to keep up with the chaos.

As we rode, we didn't talk. We didn't need to talk, it was a comfortable silence. We sat across from each other, both in our own worlds, but still aware of each other's presence at the same time. We both rose as our stop came, hoping off the bus onto our quiet street., walking to our apartment. I stopped at our mailbox to pick up the mail before heading up. Harry waited patiently, walking aimlessly in circles around the little lobby. We walked the flight of stairs until we reached our apartment, all while in silence, just as we had on the bus. Searching for my keys, Harry said, "It's okay, I've got mine," pushing me aside and popping the door open. He kicked off his shoes, threw his keys onto the coffee table, then planted himself on the coach, and pushed off the beanie revealing his unruly curls.

Flipping through the mail, I sat down next to him. I noticed out of the corner of my eye Harry turned his head to me and was watching me. I put the mail aside and looked back at him. His eyes swiftly roamed around my face. As he took a deep breath and exhaled, he was just close enough that his breath landed lightly on my face, causing me to shiver.

"You need a haircut," Harry said blatantly in his deep, groggy voice.

"Well," I chuckled, "Whenever you feel like it, you can cut it,"

"You know, you could just go to the hairdressers."

"I like the way you do it," I said simply. I ran my hand through his hair, smoothing out some of the distressed curls. For a brief second, he leaned into my touch. And for that brief second, he looked comfortable, even at peace. Maybe I had been seeing something that wasn't there, but I knew Harry. I knew that face better than anything.

But as fast as that brief second had come, it just as quickly left.

I looked into his intense forest green eyes and could immediately see the walls he had put up. He disconnected and looked elsewhere.

"Anyway," I continued, "Liam and Zayn awhile back managed to snag tickets to this big rock show. It's in a tiny club and there is supposed to be more than twenty bands performing. It's non-stop, just band after band. Turns out, Liam and Zayn met these two girls who are here on vacation, and their last day is the day of the rock show. They're going to take them out their last day here, so they offered us the tickets."

Harry reached for the remote and began flicking through the channels.

"So, would you want to go?"

Harry answered by saying, "Yeah, I guess so. Sounds pretty cool."

I couldn't tell what Harry was really feeling. Once his walls were up, there was no getting through.

I dropped the subject, planning on returning to it later. As for the time being, we just sat there, watching infomercials and late-night/early morning television. As time passed and programs melted into the next, I looked over at Harry, his eyes seemed to be getting heavy and every few seconds his head would start to tilt down, almost giving into the exhaustion, then instantly snap back up. I could feel sleep over-powering me as well. Before I knew it, we were both asleep.

A couple hours later, I woke up to find Harry and I sprawled out on the couch. Harry's head laid rest on my abdomen, his shirt rode up slightly exposing his back dimples and a pale stretch of skin. I watched the steady rise and fall of his breathing, how his curls fell across the front of his face, giving him the look of an innocent, young boy.

I tried to slowly slip from underneath Harry, careful not to wake him. As I got out, I stood up and stretched. The sun was peaking in through the slants of the blinds. I walked over and down the long, narrow hallway that lead to both our bedrooms. Harry's was on the left side of the hallway. Going into Harry's room, I picked up a blanket off his bed, and headed back toward the living room.

Gently, almost like a feather, I laid the blanket over Harry. He squirmed, scrunching his face slightly at the disturbance, attempting to get comfortable again. All the while never waking.

I headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. According to the digital clock on the microwave, it was slightly past noon.

I stood at the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to brew, looking around the apartment. _Our_ apartment.

The countless records and films and photos and artwork splattered all around the house represented everything we were. The way I always got whole wheat bread because it's Harry's favorite, even though I couldn't stand the stuff, and the way Harry remembered to put the cap on the toothpaste, because he knew it bothered me when he didn't. It was all us. That apartment just screamed Us.

I sat down at the kitchen table, sipping my coffee, and looking over at the sleeping boy I seemed to drawn to.

Whether it was sleep deprivation, or the caffeine had just not kicked in yet, I found myself laying the side of my cheek against the hard, cool table surface, and falling fast asleep.


End file.
